


Slipping off the Radar

by iclethea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Character Death, Demons, Episode: s08e23 Sacrifice, Gen, Heaven, Human Castiel, Hunters, Post-Episode: s08e23 Sacrifice, Suicide, Trials of Hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 19:52:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iclethea/pseuds/iclethea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Angels have fallen and Sam is dying. Will Dean be able to save him? My interpretation of 9x01 "I Think I'm Gonna Like it Here"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slipping off the Radar

**Slipping off the Radar**

 

“Angels, they're falling,” Dean breathed. He felt Sam shiver against him, his little brother's body shaking. Together, they watched as the Angels fell from Heaven, hurtling balls of fire and their wings burning as the descent was made. They wondered what had become of their dear friend Castiel. Where was he?Could he be one of those Angels crashing down to Earth? Dean's hands were shaking as they tried to keep a grasp on Sam. His little brother jolted as an Angel splashed into the nearby pond.

 

 _We gotta get out of here,_ Dean thought. 

It was hard to believe that it was only minutes before, that Sam had almost completed the Trials. He had watched as Sam said he didn't care if he died, and Dean had felt his heart almost stop.

“ _Think about what we know, huh? Pulling souls from hell, curing demons, hell, ganking a Hellhound! We have enough knowledge on our side to turn the tide here. But I can't do it without you,” Dean had begged. Sam looked at him in bewilderment, face pained and pale._

“ _You can barely do it with me. I mean, you think I screw up everything I try. You think I need a chaperone, remember?” Sam exclaimed._

“ _Come on, man. That's not what I meant.”_

“ _No, it's exactly what you meant. You want to know what I confessed in there? What my greatest sin was? It was how many times I let you down. I can't do that again. What happens when you've decided I can't be trusted again? I mean, who are you gonna turn to next time instead of me? Another angel, another -- another vampire? Do you have any idea what it feels like to watch your brother just-” Sam spoke in a devestated voice, tears in his eyes. Dean had cut in before he could finish._

“ _Hold on, hold on! You seriously think that? Because none of it -- none of it -- is true. Listen, man, I know we've had our disagreements, okay? Hell, I know I've said some junk that set you back on your heels. But, Sammy...come on. I killed Benny to save you. I'm willing to let this bastard and all the sons of bitches that killed mom walk because of you! Don't you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you! It has never been like that, ever! I need you to see that. I'm begging you,” Dean had pleaded._

  
  


“Sammy? You with me dude?” Dean asked, seeing his brother's face screw up in pain.

“D'n?” Sam gasped out.

“I'm here Sammy,” Dean said softly. Sam groaned as his arms glowed gold, igniting his veins in fire.

“Come on we need to move ya,” Dean said. He pulled all 6”4 of his brother up, helping him into the passenger side of the Impala. As he got Sam settled, his eyes widened as he saw Sam lurch forward, coughing blood into his palm, mixing with the blood from the wound in his hand.

“C'mon buddy, you're okay,” Dean soothed gently as he got in the driver's seat. He shoved the keys into the ignition and the Impala took off. 

“D-Dean...” Sam gasped.

 

“Stay awake for me Sammy,” Dean ordered. He couldn't face his brother losing consciousness now. Sam's eyes opened again, and Dean knew he was trying.  
“That's it dude. We'll be at the hospital in a few minutes,” Dean told him as they raced down the abandoned road towards Lebanon, Kansas. Dean knew they had left Crowley behind in the church, but Crowley wouldn't be going anywhere soon. The blood Sam had given him had already begun to affect Crowley. Sam had seen it, in the way the former King of Hell had acted.

 

“Crowley's.... still... back there,” Sam gasped out, trying to keep his eyes open

“I know Sammy. He's not going anywhere. Why are you all beat up? Did he get his hands on you?” Dean growled at the thought.

“He... summoned demons...” Sam said weakly. “Abaddon showed up... She threw me... through a.... window....”

“What?” Dean exclaimed.

“S-set her on fire...” Sam continued, voice growing fainter.

“You deep fried the bitch?” Dean said with his eyebrows raised. He was honestly surprised that his brother could still speak, but he was glad too. It meant Sam was still with him.

“Yeah,” Sam replied, coughing blood and Dean watched in concern as it dribbled down Sam's chin.

“Come on man... just hold on for a little while longer,” Dean urged. Sam's eyes fluttered open again, sunken eyes searching for him, like he was unsure of his surroundings, which probably was the case.

“T-tryin',” he gasped out. There was a long silence.

“Hey, no matter what happens now. I'm proud of you Sammy,” Dean said suddenly.

“Just shut up and drive...” Sam muttered.

“You do know that's a song right? Pretty crappy though but still,” He joked, trying to keep his little brother awake. He saw Sam roll his eyes in his peripheral vision.

 

“Jerk...”

“Bitch,” Dean replied automatically. They pulled up outside hospital at that moment. Just as Dean was getting out of the car, Sam began to cough again, large drops and a small pool of blood on the front of his shirt. Dean hitched Sam's arms around his shoulders and walked them inside.

 

“We need some help here!” Dean yelled as they got inside. The nurses rushed forward, taking Sam away from him and a moment later, his little brother was on a stretcher. It was only then that he noticed how bad his brother really looked. Sam's cheekbones jutted out, his eyes sunken. There was no colour in Sam's cheeks and even from where he stood, he could tell Sam was having a lot of trouble breathing.

“What happened sir?” A nurse asked Dean.

“I don't know,” Dean lied. “I'm not sure how...” The nurse nodded with a slightly disbelieving look on her face. They wheeled Sam off, turning around the corner. Dean walked forward, following his brother.

 

“You need to stay here and answer some questions,” the nurse told him. He glared at her.

“Like?” he said, glaring at her. He needed to see Sam.

“How do you know him?” the nurse asked, her eyes scrutinising. He looked and her and saw her name tag; Nurse Reynolds

“He's my brother,” Dean answered.

“Are you his primary care giver?” she asked.

“Yes, I am,” Dean snapped, already bored with the questions. His heart was pounding hard as the need to see his little brother grew.

“Did you find him like that?” 

“Yes I did. I don't know what happened,” Dean lied. Nurse Reynolds sighed.

“Hopefully we can get some answers out of him when he is stable. Do you have insurance?” she asked. Dean handed her the card without speaking, wanting to get this over with.

“Can I see my brother now?” Dean asked impatiently.

“I'm afraid the doctors are still looking after your brother Mr Henson,” Nurse Reynolds replied in a clipped tome. “You will have to wait here.”

“Damn it!” Dean replied, his voice rising. “I want to see him!”

“Just trust that we are doing everything we can to save him.”

“You better,” Dean glared.

“Are you doubting the job that I take very seriously?” she scowled back. Dean smirked.

“Not at all,” he said sarcastically.

“Don't make me call security,” Nurse Reynolds warned. Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Look, I just need to see Sam,” Dean replied, ignoring her warning.

“And you will. Trust me, when they let me know you will be the first to know about it.” Dean nodded in reply.

“I will let you know,” Nurse Reynolds told him, before leaving him alone.

 

“Thanks,” Dean said rolling his eyes. “Please be okay Sammy...” he muttered to himself. He didn't know how long had passed. He sat there and a voice caught his attention. He looked up to see a reporter on the TV, standing outside with the Angels still falling behind him. There were less Angels than before, but the fact they were still falling was shocking.

He was brought out of his thoughts a short while later by a deep voice.

“Sam Henson?” a tall black doctor asked. Dean stood.  
“I'm his brother,” he said. “How is he?”

 

“Please come with me,” the doctor said. Dean followed him. _This can't be good,_ he thought worriedly. He followed the doctor upstairs and into a ward, and they reached a room. The doctor opened the door and Dean saw his brother in the bed. Sam was as pale as the white sheets below him. He was wearing a hospital gown, not the plaid shirt and jeans he had been wearing before. He could hear the faster than normal beeping of the heart monitor beside his bed and Dean noticed a nasal cannula in his nostrils. It was so wrong. Dean rounded on the doctor.

“What's wrong with him?” Dean demanded.

 

“Your brother is seriously malnourished, various cuts and bruises on his body, but it is his heart I'm concerned about,” The doctor said, and Dean's eyes widened.

“What about it?” he asked, half of him not wanting the answer.

“He's suffering from extreme arrhythmia. An irregular heart rate,” the doctor clarified, seeing Dean's confused expression. “We have given him medication to fight it, but you have to have faith.” “Are you telling me my brother's life is in God's hands?!” Dean exploded angrily.

“Speaking hypothetically, yes,” the doctor replied. 

“When will he wake up?” Dean asked, swallowing a lump in his throat.  
“We're not sure yet,” the doctor replied. “The waiting game starts now.”

“Okay..” Dean trailed off and watched as the doctor left.

 

“Sammy? You gotta wake up ok?” Dean said softly, sitting at Sam's side, looking at his pale face. “You can't leave me alone you dick,” he said, grinning weakly. Seconds turned into minutes before he heard his ringtone, _Smoke on the Water_ beginning to play.

 

“Garth?” he asked as he answered his cell.

“What's goin' on broseph?” Garth questioned.

“Broseph?” Dean asked in confusion.

“Too much?” Garth said sheepishly.

“Yeah.”

“What's going on with the weird meteor shower?” Garth asked. “Hunters are freaking out here dude.”

“All the Angels fell. It's complicated...” Dean trailed off.

“Angels? Fallin?” Garth said in shock

“Some dick Angel betrayed us and caused the Angels to fall,” Dean told the young hunter. “We told you we were trying to close Hell. We didn't. Sam's..... he's hurt. I'm at the hospital with him now.”

“Do you need... moral support... or...?” Garth suggested awkwardly.

“No,” Dean replied simply.

“So why did you call me?” Garth asked him.

“You called me, idiot,” Dean replied, actually feeling a smile tug on his lips.

“Oh yea... Hey, let me know if anything changes with Sam, or if you hear anything else about the angels,” Garth said in concern.

“Alright, sure. See ya,” he said, hanging up. He sighed. “I wish Bobby or Dad were here. They'd know what to do,” he muttered to himself. “Please wake up Sammy.”

 

Dean sat there for hours. He looked at Sam's frail body and couldn't believe it was his brother. Sam was bulky, strong, built like a house. It was heart-wrenching to see him like this. He remembered Sam's childhood, in the way a father would. Dean might as well have been a father to Sam. His Dad was always on hunts or researching. They were left alone constantly, and only had each other for company. Neither of them minded, as they were really close. They needed each other. They had proved that often enough. 

 

Dean was brought out of his thoughts by a shrill continuous note. He looked over to see the heart monitor beeping frantically, the lines in rapid succession. The colour drained from Dean's face.

“Sammy?!” he exclaimed. “Sammy! Somebody help!” Dean roared. Sam's doctor and three nurses rushed in with a crash cart.

“Sir, please wait outside, we can do everything we can,” the doctor told him as he began CPR.

“Like hell I am! That's my brother!” Dean snapped as a nurse delivered breath into Sam's starved lungs.

“Still no pulse,” she reported. Dean felt tears in his eyes.

“Sammy!” he called again, desperately needing his brother alive. 

“He's in V-fib,” Nurse Reynolds told Sam's doctor. Dean watched as the doctor put the gel on the defibrillator paddles, rubbed them together and saw as Sam's back arched from the electricity. There wasn't a change.

“No change, turn it up to 360,” the doctor ordered. They shocked him again.

“Sammy... please...” Dean begged.

“Nothing,” the doctor sighed. The heart monitor gave out a long continuous whine as it began to flat-line. _No,_ Dean thought desperately. The doctor and nurses worked faster, injecting adrenaline into Sam's arm. After a few moments, the doctor sighed.

“Alright... That's it. I'll call it... Time of death: 6:09am.”

“No.... NO!” Dean yelled. He lurched forward.

“I'm very sorry... he couldn't hold on any longer,” the doctor said in a saddened tone. Dean knew he really didn't give a damn. The doctor had seen thousands of situations like this and didn't really care about any.

“Bullcrap!” Dean snapped, tears leaking into his eyes.

 

“I'm so sorry,” Nurse Reynolds said, fake sympathy in her eyes. Dean didn't answer them, he just simply moved past them and bent over Sam's body, interlocking his hands over Sam's sternum. He began compressions, praying that it would work.

“Come on... come on...” he muttered under his breath. “Please Sammy. Damn it, you promised...”

“Sir?” the doctor asked.

“What?” Dean asked through his teeth, not stopping the compressions as he bent to pinch Sam's nose shut while he gave him two breaths.

“It's time to let him go,” the doctor told him softly.

“No. He doesn't get to check out like this,” Dean growled, not holding back the tears anymore as they fell on Sam's pale skin. 

“Mr. Henson, let him die in peace,” one of the other nurses tried to console him.

 

“Damn it, don't you quacks get it?! He's the only family I have!” Dean exclaimed. Suddenly, a his ringtone cut through the air. Dean sighed as he answered, not even looking at the caller ID.

“Dean?” Dean was surprised to hear Castiel's voice coming out of the phone.

“Cass?” Dean said in shock. Castiel sounded horrible. “What the hell's going on?” Some part of Dean's mind noted that the nurses and the doctor had left.

“Metatron tricked me. My brothers and my sisters...'” Castiel said, and his tone was one of heartbreak.

“You're not the only one,” Dean choked out as a tear dripped down his cheek.

“What's happened?” he asked, voice swimming with concern.

“Sam.... h-he's didn't make it...” Dean choked out, looking over at Sam's body. He couldn't help the gut wrenching sobs that then began to shake his frame. Sam Winchester was really gone and was not coming back. Dean wasn't listening to anyone or anything. He was too busy trying to breathe as sobs shook through him, tearing him apart.

“He died for nothing. Damn it, he didn't deserve this! He wanted to survive it...” Dean choked out.

“Dean, its not your fault,” Castiel said. “He will be greatly missed. I'm sorry.”

 

“I wanted to take the Trials myself. If only I'd killed that Hellhound first...” Dean spat bitterly, remembering the first Trial to close Hell's Gates; killing a Hellhound. 

“I'm very sorry Dean,” Castiel said quietly.

“You said that already,” Dean said in an emotionless tone.

“I believe humans repeat themselves as a sign of comfort?” Castiel asked in a confused and saddened voice. “Sam is in Heaven now, with our Father. I believe he will be with everyone else, like Bobby Singer, Ellen and Joanna Harvelle and your parents.”

“Which leaves me stuck in this hell-hole,” Dean muttered.

“You need to keep fighting Dean,” Castiel said softly.

“What if I don't want to?” Dean asked flatly.

“You must have faith,” the former Angel replied.

“Save it Cass,” Dean snapped. “Look... I gotta go...”he said before ending the call. He couldn't talk anymore. He dropped himself into the chair by Sam's side.

 

“Goodbye Sammy,” Dean said, his voice strangled. His hand moved to his brother's cold forehead, brushing the long hair away, revealing the bluish tinged pale skin. His eyes slipped shut as his breath hitched loudly in his throat. His walls broke down and his head bowed, sobbing. After everything... Sam was gone. It just wasn't fair.

 

~*~*~

 

Sam Winchester couldn't breathe. He could hear the voices in the room, the most familiar being his brother. The tone was panicked and scared. He could suddenly see himself in a hospital bed, with a doctor and multiple nurses swarmed around him as his heart monitor wailed.

“Nothing,” the doctor was saying. One of the nurses injected him with adrenaline. Sam tried to call out to his brother.

“Dean, I'm right here! It's not real!” He reached a hand out and tried to lay it on Dean's shoulder, but it sank into his big brother's flesh like butter, but Dean didn't even notice. _This has gotta be some Djnn thing or something,_ Sam thought, panicking.

 

“Alright... That's it. I'll call it... Time of death: 6:09am.” Sam saw his brother's face drain of colour.

“No.... NO!” Dean yelled as he lurched forward.

“Dean! I'm here!” he shouted, but Dean could not hear. “DEAN!”

“Sam, he cannot hear you,” an emotionless voice sounded and Sam turned. As he spun on his heels, his surroundings morphed and Dean and the doctors disappeared, and he was now standing in the middle of an old fashioned room. 

 

The ceiling was coved, with intricate carvings in the plaster. The room was lit by old style lamps, giving the room a golden glow. The mahogany fireplace was lit and illuminated the man by the fire.

“Where the hell am I?” he muttered to himself and the man turned. His face was gaunt and pale, and he stared at Sam for a moment.

“I wondered when you would 'drop in'. I've been waiting for you,” Death said in a flat voice.

“Why?” Sam asked, fearing the answer. He already knew he was dying. There was nothing he could do to stop that. But he couldn't leave Dean.

“There's nothing to be afraid of. Death,” he smiled a little, “waits for no man.”

 

“So you're my Reaper huh?” Sam asked. “Why did you come and not just someone like Tessa?”

"My boy do you think I would give up the chance to reap your soul?" Death asked with a small smile.

“No, I don't think so. But you're not going to,” Sam replied confidently. Death raised an eyebrow.

“Why not, pray tell? “ he asked, standing up. His thin black cane was in his hand, and he leaned on it, even though he didn't need to.

!I can't die yet. Dean needs me... We're all we've got!” Sam replied, scared now. He couldn't leave Dean like this.

“And you think that will convince me?” Death asked. “Sam your body is dead. Your soul is here. There is a natural order.”

“Screw it! I'm not dying today!” Sam snapped.

“Yes you are Sam. It is your time,” Death replied in a monotone.

“No it's not!” Sam protested. He saw Death sigh.

“Enough of these childish games. It is true that I can't make you come with me. But you know what will happen if you stay,” Death said rhetorically.

“That won't happen to me,” Sam scowled. He wouldn't turn evil.

“As I recall, you thought that about your friend Bobby Singer who became vengeful after a while,” Death said in an idle tone, looking Sam in the eye.

 

“He was pissed cause Dick Roman shot him in the head! Did you expect him to be calm?” Sam exclaimed, incredulous. He could remember Bobby's spirit around Dick Roman, throwing things and hurting anyone and everything in his path. It did strike a chord with him. Would he really end up like that if he stayed?

“It had nothing to do with him. Spirits turn vengeful. It was only a matter of time,” Death told him, beginning to walk around the room. Sam gritted his teeth.

“Your fight is over,” Death continued. “You _will_ turn vengeful, and then a hunter _will_ destroy you.”

 

“Where will I go?” Sam found himself asking. He'd been to Heaven once, Hell twice, and even Purgatory. He didn't really like any of them. He suddenly remembered Zachariah in Heaven. Could that have been his plan? To make Heaven look like that to them?

“I don't decide that Sam,” Death said matter of factly.

“I could go back and shut the gates of Hell,” Sam insisted. “It wouldn't be any different. I'd still die.” _But at least I could say goodbye to Dean,_ he finished in his head.

“It's too late for that,” Death stated. The door behind Sam began to glow and he swallowed. Sam took a deep breath of the air he found that he didn't need and walked towards the light, silently begging Dean to forgive him for leaving his big brother alone... 

 

~*~*~

 

Dean stood in the middle of Sam's bedroom. Only a day had passed since Sam's death, and Dean was grieving. The doctors had taken Sam from him a few moments after he'd gotten off the phone with Castiel, saying they needed to 'clean him up'. What? Was he going to be in a fashion show Dean didn't know about. The idea had almost made Dean snort, but he couldn't. He couldn't do much of anything. 

 

What he had done was go back to the Men of Letter's bunker. He'd calmed Kevin down, who had tried to shoot him with a crossbow and missed. Kevin had been freaking out over the Angels falling. He thought the world was ending. Which it most likely was now that Abaddon was the Queen of Hell. 

 

It was only then that Kevin had noticed the absence of Sam. Dean told Kevin of his death and the young Prophet of the Lord was shocked to say the least. Even though he didn't know the Winchester brothers all that well, he knew two things, that they would do anything for each other and that they could do anything if they tried. It was because of that, that the Prophet was so surprised and saddened by the younger Winchester's passing.

 

Dean had stolen Sam's body from the morgue a few hours before. Picking the lock had been easy, something his father had taught him at an early age. He sneaked in and quickly ound the drawer with labelled ' _Samuel Henson._ ' He'd carried his brother out from the morgue and laid him in the back seat of his beloved Impala. That had been the second time he had broken down.

 

Now here he stood in Sam's room in the Men of Letter's bunker. He could still see Sam on his bed if he looked over and for half a second, he thought that his little brother would move. His throat grew thick with the remembrance that his brother was really gone. He sighed. Castiel had arrived in different clothes, telling him that he had a confrontation with a fallen Angel and he had gone to a laundromat. Kevin hadn't taken well to the fact Castiel was at the Batcave now. After all, the former Angel had threatened him into translating the Angel Tablet only a day before.

 

Dean bent down, hitching his arms under Sam's cold body, and lifting him into his arms. He walked out, trying not to jostle his dead brother. He walked along the main room, seeing Kevin and Castiel look up as he passed. Dean carried Sam outside the bunker, and he placed his 6”4 brother onto the pyre he had built before. He walked forward with a lit Zippo lighter and touched the flame to the wood of the pyre, which sparked immediately and began to spread.

 

The fire soon engulfed the whole pyre and Sam himself as the thee hunters, Prophet and former Angel watched, remembering the man who was nothing but a burning corpse now. Dean was crying silently. None of the rest tried to give him comfort before, when he had been in the bunker. They wanted to, but they knew it would be no use. Dean was utterly heartbroken and the only way to fix if was for Sam to come back. Now there were no deals, no Angels, no anything to bring Sammy back from the dead. Together they watched as the fire burned hungrily, ridding the world of the body of Samuel Winchester.

Dean held the crumpled piece of paper in his hand. It was a letter from Sam. He had found it not long before, and it had only added to his grief.

 

_Dear Dean,_

_If you're reading this, I'm dead. Seems cheesy doesn't it? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave you alone like this, But things never work out for the Winchesters, do they?_

_Dean, you've always been there for me, and I love you for that. You've cared for me all my life and I've never properly thanked you for it. Thank you Dean. You were always there, even when we fought and punched each other until we were black and blue. Dad had always said to look after me, and you did it without complaint._

_I knew there would be a catch with these Trials. It's not even worth asking. I'm writing this before we go out to do the third Trial, and I thought I'd write this down, just in case. I want you to know that I tried to stay alive Dean. I didn't want to die, and remember when we killed the Hellhound, and I said you were a genius? I wasn't lying. You know things no one else would know, or kill to know. I wanted to live and get married, but things aren't that simple anymore. I'm so sorry Dean._ _I guess this is goodbye.... I love you big brother._

 

_Sam Winchester_

 

Dean took a deep breath, his heart hammering as he watched the flames. Screw Metatron, Crowley, Abaddon and all those sons of bitches. He didn't care anymore. Someone else could sort it out for once. He was done. There was no turning back now. He couldn't do it anymore. They'd both lost too much. Dean fingered the cool metal of his gun, and he sighed, putting the barrel of his gun under his chin.

 _I'm comin' Sammy,_ Dean thought and took a deep breath before a gunshot ripped through the air, and he fell, dead at the foot of the pyre.

 

~*~*~

 

Dean groaned, his eyes opening blearily. He had no idea where he was. Before him, was a pale wood door, and he raised an eyebrow as he got to his feet. Where was he? It definitely wasn't Hell, and that gave Dean a sense of relief. He walked towards the door, and it opened before his fingertips touched the handle.

“What the-” Dean muttered.

 

“Dean,” Sam Winchester's voice sounded. Dean spun on his heels, coming face to face with his brother. Sam was standing in what looked like Bobby's scrapyard, and behind it, he could see the house intact, not burned down. 

“Sam?!” Dean exclaimed. He rushed forward and pulled Sammy into a hug, clinging on for dear life. He pulled back to see Sam's shocked face.

“You're dead?” Sam asked, pain in his tone. Dean sighed.

“M'sorry Sammy,” he said softly, looking into his brother's eyes.

“Why....?” Sam said sadly.

“Sammy... I couldn't,” Dean choked out, his voice breaking.

“So you killed yourself?” Sam said angrily.

“What would you have done?” Dean challenged.

“Dean Winchester, stop yelling at your brother!” Ellen Harvelle exclaimed as she walked out of Bobby's house.

 

“So the gangs all here?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” Ellen replied. “Bobby and your parents are inside. Get in there, the both of ya, I'm sure we all wanna know what happened. I mean, suddenly Bobby just shows up a few months ago. Told us he was in Hell and Sam busted him out.”

"Mom and Dad are there?" Dean asked. 

“Yup, go on,” Ellen grinned. “Don't make them wait.” Dean, Ellen and Sam walked towards the old familiar house, and when they got inside, Dean saw his mother, father and Bobby standing in the kitchen. Jo was sitting at the table, and she looked up..

“Dean?” she said in a shocked tone, rising from her chair.

“Hey Jo,” Dean smiled. Jo walked towards him and hugged him.

“So what got you up here?” Jo asked. Dean grinned.

“I finally cracked, I guess,” he laughed. As Dean laughed, Jo caught sight of a bullet wound under Dean's jaw, and as she focused on the wound, it closed up.

“You shot yourself?” Mary Winchester asked from where she was standing.

“Mom...” Dean trailed off.

“Why did you do it kiddo?” John asked, looking at his eldest son with more concern than he'd probably ever shown in life.

“The idgit has been known to do stupid things,” Bobby Singer spoke in his deep voice. Dean rolled his eyes in response.

“I figured the party was going on up here,” Dean grinned. “I'm here, and I can't change that. But, damn it, I'm happy.”

“Dean, what happened to Cass?” Sam asked, his expression concerned.

“When the angels fell, he became human,” Dean replied, looking down.

“Why did you leave him alone?” Sam asked.

“Like we weren't left alone! I didn't see him at all when you were in Hell Sammy. At all..” Dean scowled.

“That's no excuse he's still our friend,” Sam frowned.

“I didn't do this so we could fight, Huh, maybe theres some way to keep in contact with him. I'm sure Ash could find a way,” Dean replied hopefully. He was sure Ash could find a way to get in contact with Castiel. Dude was a genius.

“Do you think Ash can make a supernatural hotline so that humans can come into contact with the dead?” Sam asked sceptically.

“The dude's awesome. I'm sure he can,” Dean replied. He turned to his mother and opened his arms in a hug.

 

“I'm still mad at you,” she warned before she walked into his arms. Dean held her tight.

“I know,” he replied. “I love you Mom.”

“I love you too sweetheart,” Mary answered. Dean hugged his father and spoke up.

“Anyone else we know up here?” Dean asked.

“I found Jess,” Sam replied with a grin.

“That's great man,” Dean laughed and punched Sam's shoulder lightly.

“So what're we gonna do now?” Bobby asked.

“Work at freeing the Angels from the inside out,” Dean replied with a smile.


End file.
